


Can't help but touch myself

by Tita



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Play, Begging, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, D/s relationship, Daddy Kink, Daddy Louis, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominance, Fisting, Lace Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Panties, Phone Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, So much smut, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tita/pseuds/Tita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I asked what these were, love.”<br/>Harry gulps.<br/>“Panties,” he explains with heated cheeks, needing more than the light touches from Louis and getting nothing.<br/>“What did you get them for? Were they to impress someone else?” He asks, and Harry shakes his head fervently, stumbling over his words as he tries to get his tongue to cooperate.<br/>“No, <i>no</i>,” he emphasizes, arching his back to plaster himself to Louis. “For you, always for you, Daddy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't help but touch myself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [istajmaal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/istajmaal/gifts).



> Okay so I did it. I do not know how but I did. I combined your panties and the fisting prompts because I was already miles away from my comfort zone so I thought I might as well but I'm happy about it so I hope you are too!  
> Special thanks to my beta C and to everyone who I pestered with asks about d/s themes and general whining. (I really hope I have not missed any tags :O) ((Please enjoy))
> 
> 1st disclaimer: The characters in this fic have an established D/s relationship built on mutual trust, open communication and safety. What happens in the fic is pre-negotiated and they both know and respect the safeword.
> 
> 2nd disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not own or know one direction or anyone in the fic.

_Onion pizza and blowjobs? xx_

Harry sends the text as he gets out of class, crisp autumn air seeping through the gaps in his clothes as he hugs his jacket more tightly around himself. It’s Thursday, and since he has no classes tomorrow, he intends to do nothing but cuddle up with Louis and eat, maybe get off a few times as well.

Finals are in full bloom, and they haven’t had time to see each other in ages, times never quite matching up and frustration building up. Harry just wants to see his boyfriend, but every time he has a free hour, Louis is deep in piles and piles of books. It’s a particularly difficult (or ‘fucking impossible’ in Louis’s own words) semester for him, and Harry understands but there is only so much he can be expected to take. He _is_ a twenty year old boy, after all, and though simply seeing each other is good, his hand is not doing the job for him. It has never done, not since Louis came in with breath-hitching dirty talk and skilled fingers, but having only himself for two weeks now has been infuriating.

People mill about as Harry walks about the dorms, takes out the key just before a group of noisy girls pass by, hands taken up by vodka bottles and crisps. He briefly wonders how their tiny dresses will protect them from the cold, shivers in sympathy while the warmth of the building seeps through the layers and layers of his clothes when he gets in.

He had to pester Louis for the key, coming up with wild scenarios that would justify it, but at the end of the day, he just wanted it for _this;_ for impromptu pop-ins to Louis’s room or for quick dashes to Louis and then back to class. They always feel oddly domestic, those few stolen moments between periods, and Harry loves that it makes him think of how they’ll be in a few years, coming home to each other. For Harry the prospect is terribly exciting, but then again, everything about Louis is.

The halls are empty as he takes the needed twists and turns, remembers how he used to get lost and how he initially met Zayn, asking for directions to Louis’s room. He’d laughed, pointed in the right direction and muttered under his breath a _‘every pretty boy in here, I swear’_ that Harry had been confused about.

He enters the room without knocking when he gets there, remembering a time he used to knock until Louis had taken his head firmly between his hands and scolded him with a ‘Babe, you’ve had your tongue up my _freaking arse_ , I think we’re a bit past knocking’.

Harry’s eyes scan the room as he steps in, but Louis doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight. His bed is unmade and there are books strewn on every surface of his half of the room, but Harry can't seem to place his boy amongst the mess. That is, until he hears a string of almost incoherent mumbling, 'shakespeare' and 'soliloquy' the only distinguishable words, coming from what seems to be behind the chest of drawers. Confused, Harry walks over and almost laughs at the sight.

Crouching and covered by a flimsy blanket lies Louis, thick book in his lap and hands flying amidst explanations that no one is hearing. His shaggy hair is sloppily stuffed in a beanie, and he looks so small and stressed that Harry just wants to distract him, and moves behind him and puts his arms around Louis to do just that. Louis doesn't startle but he does pause his muttering, relaxing into Harry's arms with a “what are you doing here?” that conveys in those few words how exhausted he must feel.

Harry nuzzles into his neck and relaxes, tightens his arms around Louis and relishes in the closeness he's been missing. "Just wanted to see you," he admits.

"Could've texted me," Louis says, eyes closed as he leans back against Harry.

"I did."

"Oh," Louis sighs as he picks up his phone and the home screen shows him Harry's apparently unread text. "I'm sorry babe, I've been trying to learn this shit all day."

Harry hums in sympathy.

"But it won't stick," Louis goes on, giving a self deprecatory laugh before going on, eyes still closed.

"Leave it to me to choose the only uni subject where you can't bullshit it."

Harry huffs out a small laugh as he trails his hands up and down Louis's shoulders in an attempt to relax him. "Why don't you take a break then?" He proposes, lips over Louis's ear trying to make his offer as tempting as he can. "I brought some pizza," he adds hopefully.

Louis groans and rolls over, face planted in the middle of Harry's chest.

"Mfgh," comes his muffled voice in what sounds like a whine despite the fabric getting in the way.

"Really clear Lou," Harry jokes, nudging him on the ribs softly.

"I can't," Louis laments when he lifts his face off Harry and his words are english again. "I'm not even halfway through it and tomorrow I've got a study group and I can't babe, not tonight."

Harry tries not to let it affect him much, tries not to look crestfallen to save Louis the guilt, but he's pretty darn let down. "It's okay, I uhm, get it."

Louis huffs and lifts his head so his somewhat annoyed eyes meet Harry's. "Urgh, stop being so nice!" He says, fists mock-hitting Harry, who is admittedly confused.

"What?"

"I've been a dick all week and now you've come all the way down here with pizza and I'm kicking you out and I'm sorry," Louis rushes out and he sounds truly pained by the fact. Luckily, Harry knows this is simply Louis taking out his frustration with the world on himself, thing he tends to do when he can't cope with what's around him. He always tries not to show it, but after years, Harry knows him way too well to believe him.

"Hey, no--Lou," he soothes, hand bringing up Louis's face so he can kiss him softly. “I understand, it’s okay.”

Louis shakes his head. “It’s really not.” He pauses, thinking. “I really want to eat pizza and fuck too, you know, just--fucking finals.”

Harry can’t help but laugh again at that, thinking that well, his hand will have to do for a few days more. He can take it as long as Louis aces his finals with the thought that if he does, Harry will be doing a whole other kind of taking. The thought is more arousing than comforting.

*

The problem with the finals-imposed dry spell is that though they can’t meet up, Louis has no issue with sending Harry detailed texts about what he wants to do when they finally get to fuck. But that would be okay, fantastic even, as fuel to Harry’s imagination, except he gets them at the most inopportune times possible.

_‘gonna bend you over my desk and spank you for every unit i had to study’_ comes while Harry’s having coffee with some people from his study group. A whine escapes his lips at the thought of Louis finally on him, hands firm and unforgiving right where he needs them, but he realizes too late and notices how everyone’s gone quiet around him.

When he tries to come up with some excuse, Harry chokes on his coffee and goes beet red, clutching his phone in his hand and wheezing as several pairs of eyes settle on him worriedly. He attempts to laugh and wave them off, but he still catches traces of odd looks as he takes a sip of coffee to calm him down.

Mortified, Harry uncovers his screen and unlocks it, eyes darting around before typing out a response.

‘ _please daddy’_

He locks his phone straight after, but the thought still lingers in his mind, keeps him from fully focusing on the conversation that has gone on around him. Harry’s phone feels heavy and ominous on his hand while he tosses it around, a rush of unexplainable anxiousness flooding through him. Harry then wonders if the people around him can tell he’s eagerly waiting for his boyfriend to continue their little exchange, if they can tell how badly he needs it, if they can see the way his dick is on its way to hard just from the idea of having Louis.

The phone pings just as he’s about to take a bite of his muffin but he pauses, unlocks the screen with furtive eyes as his mind wonders what in the world Louis could’ve come up with. Knowing him, it’s practically anything.

_‘so needy for me hm? Gonna drop to your knees the next time we meet and let everyone see how you like to please your daddy?’_

Harry has to purse his lips to keep from saying _‘yesss’_ out loud but he feels it, wants to rush over to Louis’s and get his mouth all over him just to hear his praise and know he’s still capable of pleasing him. He’s embarrassingly hard in his jeans, probably no more than a few strokes away from coming since he’s so wound up, and the slight friction he gets from shifting around is enough to make him whimper.

Knowing that Louis won’t stop sending texts, Harry gets up with a flaming hot face and excuses himself to the bathroom, hoping with a prayer that it’s unoccupied. His phone pings as he closes the door and when he reads it, Harry has to bite his hand to keep quiet.

‘ _’i bet you’re not even waiting, are you? must have your hand down your pants by now with how much you want it. Can’t even wait for daddy, you needy boy’_

His hand feels incredible and not enough on his dick at the same time, Harry wishing it were Louis’s, _his_ skilled fingers sliding up and down his shaft as he tries to keep quiet. Louis slipping into his daddy role gets Harry going a hundred miles an hour, and it’s hard to keep inside all that Louis makes him feel. This is not as intense as any of their actual, intense kinky scenes, so he doesn't even feel close to that special edge they always go after, but the small taste of it has Harry hard and amazingly turned on.

He doesn’t need to text Louis back, knows he’ll keep on sending more, and the next text alert proves him right.

_are you thinking of me? stroking yourself to ideas of pleasing me and not coming for hours like we did last time, remember? had you all tied up and pretty for me_

Harry groans and throws his head back, is barely aware of how loud he’s being, fingers ghosting over the head of his cock as he switches up his strokes. In his mind, memories of the last time he slipped under play on repeat, his focus on the way Louis’s hand had felt as it stroked down his thigh, the other one fully inside Harry while his tongue lapped around where he was being stretched out. Being this worked up, Harry can only remember bits and pieces of what Louis had said then, mostly a string of ‘so good for me’ and ‘daddy’ that play like a background mantra to Harry’s now furious strokes.

Someone knocks on the door, and the sudden realization that someone could come in and see how badly Harry needs Louis on him does the deal, as he shoots into his cupped hand. Panting, Harry barely lets out an ‘occupied!’ while his phone rings again and he picks it up with his clean hand hastily, cheeks red from the exhaustion and the exhilarating setting.

_show daddy how much you liked that baby_

Harry shucks in a breath and takes a minute to understand what Louis means, flush deepening when he does. Bringing his phone up and opening the camera to 'video', Harry makes sure his face is in focus before shoving his fingers inside his mouth and licking, recording him happily slurping up all of his come. When he’s done he sends it to Louis along with a ‘ _thank you daddy’_ and gets to thinking what excuse he can use to leave, not wanting to face his group after _that_.

*

It gets to the point at which simply hearing the text alarm go off gets Harry mildly aroused, mind immediately wondering which scenario Louis has imagined this time. It’s like he’s constantly making an effort not to get a hard-on, and it would help if his wanks weren't so sad and boring. He tries to spice them up, use his left hand and finger himself, trying to come untouched, but all of that he’s done before with Louis and it pales in comparison on his own. He needs something new, something he hasn’t done before and that will finally satisfy the itch he can't seem to shake off.

That’s what brings him to the mall, and more specifically, the sex shop. It’s the promise of a new toy, a new sensation to tease himself and discover another side to his wanks that is as exciting as being with Louis is. He knows it’ll be hard to find a toy they haven’t used, since they both have an affinity for them, but Harry is nothing but decided.

There are rows and rows of sex toys and magazines and, slightly overwhelmed, Harry looks for a helpful employee to give him a hand. Turns out the only one in the shop is a lithe young man, probably around Harry’s age, who takes a long look at Harry and continues reading his magazine. Harry coughs loudly and speaks, hoping that was just a lapse in his judgement.

“Uh, hi there,” he begins, shyly waving when the employees eyes lift up from the pages. “I was looking for a new...toy?”

The steady gaze on him makes Harry nervous, and for the next few seconds there is silence.

“Butt plugs in the far wall along with dildos, bondage gear in the middle and lube on this wall here,” the employee--Gary according to the name tag-- monotonously informs Harry, hand half heartedly pointing to a wall lined with different lube and oil options.

His eyes go back to the magazine after that and somehow, Harry knows it’s all he’s going to get from him. He sighs and turns around, deciding that even without help, he’ll find something amazing and exciting and, most importantly, _satisfying_.

The selection of toys, however, does not seem to want to comply, as the shelves are lined with simple butt plugs or dildos that aren’t as good as the ones he and Louis already have. There’s nothing catching Harry’s eye, not even the sparkly pink dildo, since he knows they have the same one just a few inches longer in his flat and that it’s Louis’s favourite to use.

Harry doesn’t take a look at the BDSM aisle. It’s not worth it because he already knows they have every accessory to the things he likes from that section, and taking a look would only make Harry remember why exactly he is here and what he’s trying to make up for.

Disappointment floods him as he leaves the shop, muttering out a silent goodbye to the employee who doesn’t even notice and setting off towards the escalator. On his way, Harry sadly thinks he’ll have to just do with his hand, wondering if he can maybe use the lube that heats up to at least add something new to the mix, when something catches his eye.

It’s the flashing display of a Victoria’s Secret that pulls Harry out of his thoughts, makes his eyes lift up until he sees a whole display of frilly and skimpy lace panties, laid out by colour to form a rainbow. There’s something about them that he can’t quite place but that brings him closer until his nose is pressed up against the glass, eyes greedily taking in the beautiful fabric of the underwear.

A mannequin, made of smooth plastic and all curves, showcases black panties with pink bows, the lace semi see-through, and as soon as Harry’s eyes land on it, he decides he wants them. It’s too easy to picture himself in them, his small bum accentuated by the curve-hugging fit and pretty lace adorning his pale skin. The panties are simply _pretty_ and Harry has a feeling he’ll feel just like that with them on-- that they’re exactly what he needs.

It’s something new and, most importantly, terribly exciting and the prospect of an unexplored feeling against his skin is enough to prompt Harry to go into the store.

When he comes out, he’s got a pretty pair of garters to match a pair of lace panties and the biggest smile in the whole mall.

*

Harry can’t take his eyes off the mirror when he finally puts the panties on.

He’s decided to try them on their own today and leave the garters for another day so that he can go slow and save something for later, and just panties alone are already borderline overwhelming.

Turning around to look at his bum again, Harry trails his hand upwards until it’s touching the black lace that stretches temptingly across his small cheeks. The bikini cut makes his bum look bigger, how only the top half is covered by the lace and the bottom half is free, accentuating the foreign, almost exotic contrast of the black against his milky skin. The bows give the pair a cheeky attitude, mixing sweet and dangerous in a way that Harry thinks is quite seductive. _He_ feels seductive and sexy in them, and he’s a lad with quite a healthy amount of self esteem but this, _this_ just makes him feel like he could get anyone and anything at a bat of his eyelashes.

Harry’s legs, as pale as his body, look miles long with just the skimpy pair on, and he almost wants to go model the pair for everyone with how pretty he feels.

The front is even better since it stretches borderline uncomfortably over his dick, which is trapped under layers of lace that provide just enough friction to make him hard. The leaking tip of his cock sheers out the fabric where he's tucked into the waistband, almost peeking out, and it feels like it’s somehow teasing him.

Giving himself one last glance in the mirror, Harry heads over to the bed and lays down, closing his eyes to relax for a second. This whole ordeal with the panties has got him too excited, and he feels like he could come in any minute just from the lightest of touches. After a few moments, with his eyes still shut, Harry cups a hand over his leaking cock to relieve some of the tension before pinching one of his nipples with the other one, shivering at the slight pang of pain.

He tries to picture Louis teasing him instead of just him teasing himself, but in his tightly wound state, he can’t keep the made up Louis up for long. It’s like he’s getting into it, mind flooding with images of Louis giving Harry feather-light touches with his typical smirk but then Harry will get a hand on himself and the intensity of his need will just make it crumble. It’s frustrating him to no end, and when another attempt fails, Harry’s phone comes into his line of vision.

Getting an idea and deciding that the worst thing that can happen is his call not being picked up, Harry dials Louis’s number, a flash of arousal going through him at the realization that he has to call Louis in the middle of the day because he is too desperate to wait.

“Hey love,” Louis greets cheerfully when he picks up.

“Hi Lou,” Harry says back, thinking about how he can tell Louis that he needs his dirty talk to get himself off.

A few seconds go silent as Louis waits for Harry to explain the motive of the call, but Harry is still thinking how to explain what he needs.

“What’s up?” Louis tries, uncertainty coming through in his voice.

Sighing, Harry decides to just go outright and say it since it’s not like Louis will be surprised.

“I, uhm, got a new thing for myself and...I,” Harry pauses, takes a big breath and lets out a string of words all in a rush. “Iwashopingyou’dtalkdirtytome.”

His cheeks are heating up at the way he already sounds like he’s on the way to wrecked and he loves it, relishes on the thought that Louis knows how bad he wants it.

“Oh,” Louis responds, voice getting that cocky hint that usually leads to him domming Harry and them having really good sex. “You want me to get you off, hmm?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Well,” Louis thinks for a moment and Harry waits with a held breath to what will come next. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied without Louis helping him even if he does get off in the end. Harry needs to let go of all the frustration he’s been building up and that has been topped off by the panties and there is no better way to do it than giving himself fully to Louis. It’s always been what brings him back down from frustrations (which he tends to get because really, how do people even think Harry can hand in three papers and take a final on the same week, he’ll never know) and this time he’s hoping it’ll be no different.

“I’ll be right over,” Louis sentences, and Harry’s heart begins beating at double the pace until Louis continues. “But you get ready for me, yeah? Don’t come, but I’d love to see your nipples all puffy and lovely for me babe.”

Harry’s breath hitches and he nods for a second before realizing Louis cannot see him. By the time he’s able to form words, Louis has hung up.

From where Harry’s lying on the bed he can get a clear reflection of himself, and the way he can see how hard and sexy he is in the pair of panties spurs him on. Louis has told him not to come, so Harry stays away from the panties, has to make an effort to simply pinch his nipples. They’ve always been extremely sensitive and he knows that Louis remembers that, that every instruction he’s given and will give is calculated to get Harry exactly as they both like it, needy and panting and wonderful.

His nipples are already perking up at the attention, are hard and extra sensitive now that Harry has them between his fingers. Switching it up a little, he runs his flat palm over them, shudders at the slight but maddening twinges of arousal it sends down his spine.

Louis must not be very far and the realization that he’ll come in and see Harry sprawled out and touching himself in frilly lace panties makes him pinch himself extra hard, the pang of pain adding to the situation instead of clearing his head. It’s like everything is heightened from the lack of interaction he’s had with Louis all week, and having it with the added variable of panties and the fact that Harry is two strokes away from coming is overwhelming.

There’s a knock on the door by the time Harry has let one of his hands wander up into his hair, the light pricks of pain plus the stimulation on his nipples bringing him dangerously close to coming. Harry really hopes it’s Louis because, as he catches sight of himself in the mirror, he looks too fucked to even think of receiving anyone else.

“It’s me!” comes Louis’s voice, and Harry lets out a relieved sigh, hands going back to their previous motions since he’s already craving them after a few seconds.

“Come in, Lou,” he manages to get out as his heart speeds up again when he hears footsteps.

When Harry turns his head towards the door to get a look at Louis, he finds him rooted to the spot, eyes hungry as they rake up and down Harry’s body. He feels so exposed and open like this, loves how it’s all a show for Louis from now until Harry gets what he wants. Louis always knows, somehow, but he likes to make Harry work for it and Harry doesn’t mind in the least, not when “work” means pleasing Louis.

When Louis doesn’t move for a few seconds, Harry begins to get desperate for something more than the oaded stare Louis is giving him, so he asks, “Do you like them?”

Instead of answering, Louis snaps out of his daze and walks over to Harry, who has only a second to prepare before his mouth is covered by Louis’s, hard and demanding and exactly what he’s been waiting for. There’s a possessive hand on the back of Harry’s neck and the other one supporting Louis as he climbs on top of Harry without breaking the kiss. His tongue is unrelenting as he pushes urgently against Harry, and the power Louis already has over him makes Harry’s mind fog up while he’s kissed into the mattress.

When they break off to pant against each other’s mouths, Louis’s hand trails down from Harry’s neck to his torso and then lower, stopping at the waistband of the panties.

“What are these, then?” He asks, eyes set on Harry’s, who tries to recapture his lips in a kiss and fails.

“I asked what these were, love.”

Harry gulps.“Panties,” he explains with heated cheeks, needing more from Louis and getting nothing.

“What did you get them for?”

Harry fumbles around with the question. “Daddy,” he whines, hoping it’ll get Louis to do something but wait for a reply. “Come on,” Harry urges, thrusting up into empty air as Louis moves his hips out of reach. Louis is unrelenting, though, shaking his head as he continues asking questions.

“Were they to impress someone else?” he asks, and Harry shakes his head fervently, stumbling over his words as he tries to get his heavy tongue to cooperate.

“No, _no,”_ he emphasizes, arching his back to plaster himself to Louis. “For you, always for you, Daddy.”

Louis considers this for a second and Harry can tell he’s planning what will happen now very carefully, always being the analytic one when it comes to domming Harry. Before doing anything else, though, Louis leans down and kisses Harry much slower than before, stubble scratchy and wonderful in how it contrasts with the softness of his lips.

“Gonna take care of my pretty baby then,” Louis says, sitting on his knees and pulling off his shirt, too far away for Harry’s liking. The large expanse of tan skin is just a hair out of reach, and it frustrates Harry, how he can see but can’t touch the soft skin that he’s begging to get a taste of.

Louis seems to like the desperate way Harry reaches out for him, since he stays up for a while longer, trails his hands up and down his chest seductively before unbuttoning his jeans. Harry still feels much more exposed than Louis even when he gets down to his briefs, but it feels like he’s giving all of himself to Louis and that’s not a half bad feeling.

When Louis is done with his clothes he frustratingly does not get back to kissing Harry but instead shuffles down on the blankets and nuzzles Harry’s tummy, lips leaving random kisses on the sensitive skin.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs against the paleness of Harry’s stomach, his breath slightly tickly and making Harry shudder.

The light, teasing touches Louis is giving him are not enough for Harry, who struggles to keep his hips in place as Louis trails his fingertips up and down his clothed cock. There is no pressure, nothing to offer him some relief, but it seems to be just what Louis wants because when Harry whines, he’s just met with a small smile.

“Please,” he tries, moving one hand to grab Louis’s so he looks up.

Louis does, but he only gives Harry a flirty smile before replacing his fingers with his mouth, and Harry goes wild. The sensation of Louis’s hot mouth on the tip of his cock is amazing, and Harry tightens his hold on his hair impulsively, groans at how good it is.

Louis, however, pulls off with a displeased noise.

“You know what to do with your hands, babe,” he chastises, only returning to Harry’s panty-clad dick when Harry lifts his hands above his head and leaves them there.

“Good boy.”

Harry preens at the praise and that, plus the skirting way in which Louis’s lips trail up and down, has him impossibly close to coming. He tells Louis as much with a drawn out moan and a “close, Daddy” but instead of continuing, Louis pulls off.

Whining, Harry turns his pleading eyes to Louis’s, body confused as the quick ascent to orgam is cut off. “Please,” he asks again, but Louis shakes his head and motions for him to turn over, which Harry does, with some difficulty.

It’s just that being like this, ordered around and with his daddy taking care of him, Harry gets needy and slow in his movements, head clouded with desire and the urge to please Louis. So when he’s on his front, he brings his knees up and sticks out his bum, stifles a groan at the way the shifting lace rubs against him.

Louis’s hands are on him moments later, the touches soft over his lower back and then his bum, hands parting Harry’s cheeks and kneading them beneath his fingers. Harry feels hot breath wash over his panties, and the expectation is too much not to bury his face into the mattress.

There’s something incredibly _dirty_ about the way he’s bent over, arse up for his daddy to take, and Harry relishes it, pushes back against Louis when he feels him bite at his arsecheek.

“ _Such_ a good boy for daddy,” Louis compliments as his hands massage Harry’s arse, teasing and slow like Harry knows this will be till the end when neither can hold themselves anymore.

“Yesss,” Harry hisses in response to Louis’s words, and also because his panties are being pulled aside and Louis’s thumb running up and down his crack feels so good.

Louis has begun laying kisses against Harry’s skin again, but this time, his thumb is pressing tantalizingly near Harry’s hole. His breathing is speeding up in anticipation, and though Harry tries not to push back against Louis he can’t help but shift slightly closer, skin prickling at the father light caresses he’s being given.

“What, you want me to eat you out, baby?” Louis asks, and his voice sounds so serious Harry feels immediately guilty for being so needy.

“But-- you,” he tries to explain, moving forward so that Louis stops kissing his backside.

It’s a good thing they know each other so well, as Louis shakes his head and pulls Harry closer again by the hips, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I just want you tonight,” Louis explains, but Harry still feels slightly uneasy when Louis continues kissing him. It must show in the way his muscles don’t relax all the way since Louis halts his movements and takes Harry’s head in his hands, turning it so they can lock eyes.

“I honestly just want you to feel good tonight, Harry. We haven’t been together in weeks and you look _so_ good,” Louis pauses, takes a deep breath and looks at Harry almost disbelievingly. “ _So fucking good_ in those fucking panties so can I please just get you off? I won’t do it if you don’t want me to, but remember that I love taking care of you as much as you love to please me, yeah?”

Harry’s mind takes a while to process the thoughts, but in the end he nods, gets that if this is what Louis wants then it’s okay, because he wants it too. If this is what his daddy wants then it’s what Harry wants too, because it means making his daddy happy.

After Harry’s nod, and a few seconds of Louis looking at Harry to make sure it really is okay, they get back to how they were before, Harry spread out with his bum up in the air and Louis behind him, hands gripping Harry’s hips tightly to keep him in place. Harry doesn’t even have to wait for much longer as he can tell Louis is also impatient, hands spreading out Harry’s bum and breath washing over Harry’s heated skin.

“Now be a good boy,” Louis instructs, lips grazing Harry. “And stay still while Daddy eats you out.”

The shiver that runs over Harry is interrupted by an involuntary moan as Louis’s wet tongue flattens against his hole, and Harry notices Louis hasn’t moved the lace aside like he did before, and is licking him over it instead. The texture of the panties is adding an extra sensation, and it feels wonderful. That one quick swipe of Louis’s tongue would have put all of his nerves on edge anyway, but that plus the lace makes Harry fall to his forearms, back arching in an attempt to chase Louis’s mouth. The first swipe is followed by two kitten licks, and it feels so good, the slight pressure and heat of it perfect against the place he needs it the most, that Harry lets out another moan, which stretches out as Louis continues working over him again and again. He’s trying not to move much, but his legs are already quivering, weak from Louis’s ministrations.

It’s like he’s done teasing Harry and is going all for it, alternating between broad licks that Harry feels everywhere to tugging on the panties and adding the bittersweet sensation of pain to the mix. It’s so new and exciting and _so, so much_ after the weeks of dry spell that Harry thinks he might go insane between one lick and the other, mouth spilling strings of “please” and “Daddy” almost incoherently.

Then, Harry’s hole is slightly stretched as Louis pokes his tongue in, and he loses it, mouth wide open in a silent moan. His arms and legs are straining to keep himself upright, and it gives Harry something to focus on as Louis makes a mess of his senses. Louis is so deeply buried in him for a few seconds that his nose pokes up against Harry, and Harry can feel how all the skin around the area is wet and messy.

It’s a strange feeling, having something other than the standard fingers or dick, but Harry loves it, revels in the roughness of Louis’s tongue and the small flicks he uses. He can tell by the way his heart rate is speeding up, mind slightly more fogged than before, that he’s getting close, every lick pushing him closer and closer to orgasm.

“I’m--” he tries, voice already ruined, but he lets out a moan as Louis’s grip on his hips tightens. “‘m close, Daddy,” Harry gets out, his hand itching to wrap around his cock but his mind keeping him from doing so, thoughts set on being as still as Louis wants him to be.

“Gonna come for me?” Louis asks as he pulls his mouth away, making Harry whine and bite his lip in an attempt to distract himself from the urge to push his arse back against his daddy’s mouth.

“Untouched and all over your pretty panties?”

The words only serve as fuel to the fire for Harry. Louis redoubles his efforts now with continuous, deep swipes and a bruising grip. Harry completely falls over the edge, letting out a drawn out moan, and comes, coating the front of his lace panties.

Louis doesn’t really pull away after that though, his movements slowing down but not completely stopping. His hands move from Harry’s bottom to the top of his back and then down, calming Harry as he comes down from his high.

The lightheaded, airy feeling has intensified after his orgasm, and Harry starts to go under, feeling sated and happy to have stayed still like his daddy told him. Now Louis is talking again though, so Harry tries to focus on the words to clear some of the cloudiness that has settled in his head.

“You’ve been so good for me, baby,” Louis compliments, making Harry feel warm and happy. He buries his head in the mattress as Louis continues, so what comes next is hard to catch. “So Daddy’s gonna reward you with some fingers now, okay?”

Even in his floaty state it doesn’t take much for Harry to know he wants this, craves the feeling of fullness after weeks of being empty and continuing to be good for Louis, so he pushes back against Louis’s grip minimally to show it.

There’s a few seconds of nothing while Harry hears the bedside table being opened and then closed, Louis’s hands leaving his hips for a torturous few moments and then resuming their slow trail up and down his back. As a result of those, he’s relaxed when he feels the lubed tip of Louis’s finger nudge at his rim, this time the lace pushed to the side as the digit sinks into Harry.

It’s not much, compared to what Harry knows he can take, but the press is like a well known friend, warming Harry up for later as Louis’s finger crooks up.

“Please, Daddy,” he begs, keeping his hips still even though he wants nothing more than to push back against Louis’s fingers. “More.”

His own voice sounds distant to Harry, far away as his hole welcomes another finger, this time accompanied by a very slight burn as they’re twisted around in order to make room for scissoring. It’s lovely, the way Louis is fingering him just like he likes it while praising him, marvelled by how Harry looks ‘so _hot taking my fingers’_.

They stay at two fingers for a very short time, Harry quickly feeling like it isn’t enough and Louis adding another, crooking them again so that Harry can get off on something other than the pleasure of being filled. The waves of it rock him as Louis’s fingers graze his prostate again and again, and it’s the only thing that is truly getting past the fog in Harry’s mind, how good and warm he feels. It’s what his mind is solely centered on, so when he asks for another finger, desperately wishing to feel _more_ of the stretch and _more_ of the fullness, he doesn’t realize he’s changing the purpose of the fingering to something entirely different than merely getting ready for Louis’s dick.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks uncertainly, but the words don’t really register in Harry’s brain; he just nods aimlessly so he can get another finger in him as soon as he can. It’s not enough confirmation for Louis, though, as he stops his movements and takes Harry’s face in his one free hand, ignoring Harry’s whine at the cease in pleasure.

“Do you want me to fist you, babe, is that what you want?” he checks, and the word “fisting” resonates in Harry’s mind, as he finally recognize exactly what he’s been craving--the feeling of being filled so beyond the normal amount, so completely. They’ve done it a few times, and it’s always been so good, so _satisfying,_ Harry tries to gather himself and nod eagerly.

It seems to be enough for Louis, who then scissors his fingers perfectly in Harry once more and before taking them out. The emptiness is uncomfortable and unwanted enough to make Harry whine again and again, his need to come and be filled surpassing any humiliation and reservation he might have felt otherwise.

“I’m coming, baby,” Louis soothes him, voice much gentler and calming as it washes over Harry. “Daddy’s just getting ready for you.”

As soon as Louis finishes talking his hand is back, three fingers first. He pulls them apart to make room for the fourth that comes in soon after, adding to the buildup that’s started again after his first orgasm, dick already hard and leaking since Louis put the first finger in. He doesn’t think it’s even gone down since he came, and with a peek down Harry notices how the lace is even more translucent now that it’s covered in come. It’s somewhat sad that they’re ruined on the first wear, but Harry can’t focus on such things while Louis’s free hand is rubbing relaxing circles into his hip. It’s an unnecessary comfort, as Harry is as relaxed and open as he’ll ever be, but his muddled brain can tell it’s a sign that Louis is going to add the final finger, so he lets the mind numbingly good sensations flood his mind as he feels his body stretch around most of Louis’s hand.

It feels almost like a miracle, the pinnacle of pleasure as Harry is filled completely by his daddy. Every sensation he’s feeling is pleasurable and indescribable. His legs, which have been wobbling uncertainly, almost give out, but an arm wraps around his hips and keeps them up as the hand inside him shifts minimally.

Harry can feel every shift of Daddy’s hand deep inside him, and his prostate is being stimulated from so many places that it takes barely any action from Louis to get him close to coming, his mind refusing to fully let go before his daddy says so.

Thankfully, Louis senses his body’s tension and stretches upwards, torso lining up with Harry’s back, to whisper in Harry’s ear.

“You can come baby,” he allows, and Harry lets out a relieved sigh, letting go of the minimal control he was retaining in order not to come.

Louis’s fingers graze his prostate two times more and he’s coming, for the second time and all over his already dirtied panties while Louis whispers in his ear about _what a good boy_ he is, how filthy he looks in the panties. His hips are let go and Harry slumps to the bed, exhausted and dirty but above all blissfully sated _._ There’s only one thing missing that’s keeping him from drifting off, so he turns around just in time to catch Louis’s last strokes before he comes too, spurts of his own come joining the mess on Harry’s groin.

Harry’s eyes feel heavy and weighted down so he lets them close, basks in how it’s all quiet and serene now, with Louis slumped behind and over him and his own heart beating loudly in his ears. Harry lets the time pass, paced by his roaring heart, and as it slows down he begins to catch the continuous mumbling that he’d been too floaty to catch. He still isn’t fully back, but Louis’s words start to reach him slowly, mingling with the fog in his head and adding to the pure happiness he feels at the moment.

“You were so good for me baby, _so, so_ good,” Louis mumbles into Harry’s hair, voice as soft as the hands carding through the thick strands. “Took it all so well in your pretty panties.”

They stay like that, cooling down and connected by soft words and gestures until Louis asks if he can get up to bring a wet cloth to clean them up. Harry’s safe from any feelings of abandonment thanks to the simple sound of Louis’s voice from coming from the bathroom, whistling softly. The fabric of the flannel feels rough compared to Louis’s fingers as it’s swiped over Harry’s come covered skin and then over the area previously covered by the panties (which Louis removed and admired for a second before tossing to the corner for laundry), but after that Harry feels cleaner and also very sleepy, his eyelids drooping down more and more as the seconds tick by.

Hence, when Louis comes back, Harry proclaims that it’s bedtime now and makes grabbing motions for Louis, positioning the older boy behind him as he tugs the blankets over both of their bodies.

“Perfect,” Harry sighs as Louis’s hand wraps around his middle and intertwines with his. Contentment spreads throughout his body and completely takes over his still spacey thoughts, lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

(In the morning Harry will thank Louis with a sneaky blowjob and they’ll discuss panties over eggs and toast, and Louis will almost choke when Harry mentions the matching garters he has yet to use. It’s a good thing that finals are over, as they don’t leave Harry’s room until there’s nothing left in it but ruined lace and sated boys.)


End file.
